


Not Even the Rain

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Introspection, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Reasonably Canon Compliant, Smut, Spoilers, post-Episode: s06e04 Strange Case, spoilers for strange case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: A post episode fic loosely based on spoilers for 6x04 Strange Case. Belle goes to the pawn shop to have it out with Rumple and other things happen instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's angst. Lots of it. I'm sorry. And yes I wrote a post-episode fic for an episode that hasn't aired yet. I'm amazing. Also this is probably awful. Unbeta'd. Point out the horrible mistakes. Title is from an E. E. Cummings poem that's just been stuck in my head lately.  
> This isn't my usual style. I always end up doing these weird present tense things when stuff gets all introspective porn with feelings-ish.

“This doesn't fix anything,” she says. “You don’t -”

Whatever else she was about to add trails off into a moan as his lips hold and then suckle her earlobe. She gasps and pulls at his newly shorn hair. It’s different, but she definitely likes it. There’s a story there, obviously, but she’ll ask later because right now he’s lifting her onto the workbench in the back of the shop. 

His voice is rough, his accent even thicker than on the recording he had David deliver. “I know.”

He knows this, truly; he’s not an idiot. This won’t be like last time, despite the desperation and heat and sex, and not just because she’s already pregnant. He pulls back to look at her, his gaze raking over her tousled hair and red lips, swollen and rough from kissing, and she looks back at him with dark, heavy lidded eyes. The glint in his eyes sends a rush of heat through her veins, and her fingers twist his half open shirt, popping another button and sending it rattling to the floor. She barely has a second to suck in a breath before his lips are on hers again, hard and insistent, and entirely too welcome.

No, this will fix nothing.

After the tape and the incident on the Jolly Roger, she didn’t know how to feel, how to react. It was too much in too short of a time, and somehow that lead her to the pawn shop. She knew he’d be here, and part of her is more angry with herself for being so weak, for forgetting half the words she practiced on the way over than she is with him. They should stop, but she wants him too badly, the desperation to be whole burning her up inside.

Before she can think too long, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down. He tilts his head, bites at her lip before he kisses her hard as his hands push on her dress. She reaches a hand down between them, keeping one firmly on the back of his head, and helps, tugging on the gauzy fabric until it’s hitched around her hips. Yesterday she was lonely and uncertain, feeling like she was hiding from her problems on a pirate ship. And now she’s here, with her estranged husband standing between her legs, his strong hands pulling at her hips until his erection presses against her.

There it is again, the ripple of pleasure that zings through her whenever he’s this close, when she can feel how much he wants her. His belt fights her for a second, mostly because she’s not looking. Looking would require removing her lips from his, and that’s dangerous because then one of them could say something that would ruin the moment.

Belt finally loose, she aims for his trousers next, but he stops her, pulling her hands off of him. Belle pulls back, surprised, wondering if finally one of them has arrived at some sense. He just grins and starts sliding down the thin straps of her dress. The fabric catches at her elbows and he leaves it there, trapping her arms. She struggles for a few seconds, trying to free herself while he fumbles a bit with the clasp on her bra. At any moment she half expects him to use magic to get all these infuriating clothes out of the way, but she likes that he forgets he can in moments like this. He’s too far gone to remember, and that’s powerful.

Rumplestiltskin breaks the kiss with a feral, almost pained sound, pulling her bra off and dropping it to the floor as he leans back. She swallows as he looks at her, his eyes dark and dangerous, lingering on her bare skin like his fingers tracing every inch of her. Holding her gaze he pulls her to the edge of the workbench and rolls his hips into her. She feels every nerve light up, a rush of sensation from between her legs tickling up her spine and pulling a cry from her throat.

Her legs curl around his waist, hips rocking against him, rubbing damp cotton along the hard ridge of his cock and leaving a smear on the front of his trousers. She tips her head back with a gasp as he pushes back, giving her more pressure, more friction. She’s never had any shame about how badly she wants him in these moments, not even now when it will probably only make things worse.

He moves again and she whimpers.

“ _Rumple_.”

He loves the sweet desperation in her voice and the way her arousal makes it rougher. Even through the layers of clothing, he can feel the heat of her, smell the fine sheen of sweat on her brow and the back of her neck. He dips his head, tongue rasping up her throat and following it with a light nip of his teeth to the edge of her jaw.

“Why did you come here?” he asks, even though he knows exactly why. 

“I was mad at you,” she manages.

She came for a fight, to tell him how he’d fucked up yet again even though he did so to protect her and their unborn child. He knows it, just like he knows this might make everything worse. It’s just very hard to care when his True Love, is panting and wet for him, holding him with her thighs.

He bends his head and drags his tongue over her breast. She hisses and grabs at him, digging her nails into his neck. He opens his lips and sucks a mouthful of the firm, pale skin of her breast, rasping his tongue over her nipple. 

Belle whimpers and arches her back, bracing herself with one hand behind her on the workbench as she offers more of herself to him. 

“ _Please_ ,” she gasps, biting her lip and making a high, squeaking sound when she feels his teeth on her sensitive skin. “I need -”

He stops for a moment, taking in the reddened skin of her chest and the hard aching point that screams for more of his attentions. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“You,” she pleads, pulling his mouth back up to hers. Her tongue delves between his lips, once, then twice before she breaks off. “I need you.”

Ah, there it is. And it’s the most honest she’s been in a long time.

“And get these fucking trousers off,” she snaps, palming his erection through the layers of clothing.

He hisses and his hips jerk, but then laughs softly, and she grins at him. Her harsh, blunt words don’t shock him anymore, not when they’re like this. He settles himself a little more firmly against her, holding her hips so she can’t move like she wants until she makes a delightful,frustrated noise. Then he lets go and steps back, and he can see how gone she is, her eyes dark and wide. Her chest rises and falls in a very distracting way that has him almost forgetting how a damn zipper works.

But a few seconds later, his trousers and boxers are at his ankles and she’s licking her lips like she wants to eat him alive. He’d let her, let’s be honest. He’ll let her destroy him if it means just one more moment with her. It terrifies him sometimes what he would do for her, for their child. She doesn’t understand that the darkness is on his side now, that he’s learned to bend it to his will. She wouldn’t like it if she did, but maybe -

The sharp sound of her knocking the metal stool over brings Rumplestiltskin out of his thoughts. He blinks as she shifts back on the bench and spreads her legs wide. Apparently while he was being contemplative, she was removing her underwear. Well then.

He licks his lips and shuffles closer.

He nuzzles her skin, tracing the line of her neck. Belle shivers as he touches a light kiss to a spot just under her ear, distracting her just long enough for his fingers to slip in between them. She moans as he brushes against her, everything slick and wet. She tries to spread her legs wider as he strokes her, pushing into her heat to find a place that always leaves her gasping. 

One hand claws at his shoulder, and she keens when he bends down to pluck at her nipple with his lips. He feels so fucking good against her, his long, thick fingers pushing into her body over and over, steady and deep. When she feels his teeth tugging gently, she can’t help crying out. It’s just the right counterpoint of sharp pleasure to the ache that’s building between her legs. 

“Rum - ” she gasps. “I - _oh_ -”

She can feel his mouth leave her, the cool air rushing in over already sensitive skin. 

“Tell me sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear as the movement of his hand speeds up. “Did you miss me the way I’ve missed you?”

She whimpers and bites her lip, not wanting to answer but not wanting to lie either. The bastard knows what he’s doing, working her body as expertly as his magic. He holds her right at the edge with a well placed thumb, set just to the side of her clit. If she shifts her hips, lifts them a bit to meet the motion of his fingers, it rubs just right.

“ _Please_.”

She is not above begging in these moments, and sometimes that’s exactly what she wants. He knows that too well.

He smirks and kisses her temple. Part of him wants to give in, to give her everything she wants, but he knows that there will be fallout. Neither of them will make this easy.

“Was it my cock you missed most, darling?” 

The sound she makes is almost inhuman. “Yes.”

“Or my voice in your ear? Telling you how beautiful you are, how incredible you feel?”

“ _Y-yes_.”

She’s right fucking there and if he doesn’t -

His thumb finally moves, circling fast and light, his mouth sucking hard at the spot where neck meets shoulder, and she comes. It courses through her in pulsing waves as his fingers work her through her orgasm. She feels almost lightheaded, like she’s floating or dizzy until the rush fades. She comes down slowly, her hips no longer chasing the movement of his hand, and a small smile curves her lips.

Rumplestiltskin hums and her eyes blink open to see him sucking his fingers clean. Her grin disappears immediately and he can see her throat flex as she swallows. This should be it. He gave her what she needed and now he should let her go, let her use him and leave even if it would kill him. But then she’s pulling at the remains of his shirt, urging him closer.

“Haven’t had enough?”

He knows he’s being a bastard.

“Shut up,” she snaps. 

Her slender fingers wrap around him and his eyes roll. It feels like it’s been forever, like he’s been without her for centuries, but then he could have her morning, noon, and night and it wouldn’t be enough. She tugs at his cock, slipping the skin up and down his shaft, and it takes him a second to realize that she’s used her own wetness as lubrication.

“ _Fuck_ \- Belle -”

She bites at his neck, following it with her tongue. “That’s the idea.”

Suddenly he has too many things that he needs to say. He needs to fix this before there are more things to regret. He needs to start to be that best version of himself he promised her.

“Sweetheart, please,” he says between gasps of air. His hands are braced on either side of her, his jaw tense from trying clenching his teeth and trying to hold back.

“No,” Belle says softly. She looks up at him, nuzzling his cheek until he pulls back and she can see him properly. “No more talking.”

Well, they were always crap at talking, right?

Rumplestiltskin kisses her again, and it’s sloppy and wet, all tongues, teeth, and the heat of their mouths. Her lipstick is smeared onto her cheek and probably his too, if he cared to look. He grabs her by her hips, forcing her to brace with one hand behind her as he leans in. Her other hand is between them again, holding his cock firmly as she lines him up. He sucks in a breath and pushes into her body in one slow thrust.

Their hips meet, her thighs tighten on his waist, and he moans. Her mouth is hanging open as he presses deep and pleasure shivers through her body once more. He feels her her legs wrap around him, one shoe falling off and knocking against the floor as he starts to drive in her body. It’s slow at first, all the way in, almost all the way out. The long strokes he would use to drive her mad if they were home in their bed, but then he starts moving faster, pounding into her rough and hard.

The table creaks and bumps against the wall, rattling his tools. It feels so good she wants to scream, but she can barely breathe much less make a sound that isn’t a gasp. Her nails try to dig into the workbench as she lifts her hips to keep pace with him. It shouldn’t be like this, she thinks. It should be like before and she silently wishes they were home, that he was over her and pushing her into the mattress as the firelight made their sweat slicked skin glow. But there is little time for that daydream as his strong movements push her towards the edge again.

This time he doesn’t tease or draw it out. When it happens, they’re both in sync, moving erratically and panting into each others mouths. He pulls her up, holds her against him and pushes into her one last time. Everything is sticky and wet now, making a mess of their clothes as her dress slips back down over her waist. Her head rests on his shoulder and his face is buried against her neck while they breath and come back to themselves.

Rumplestiltskin pulls away first, and she opens her eyes. He’s looking back at her, his face a mix of hurt and love, lingering anger too. But it’s he who looks away first, unable to hold her gaze, and steps back just enough that he pulls out. She winces and shifts back so she can sit upright.

“I’m not going back to the ship,” she says.

He exhales, more relieved than he cares to admit. “Where then?”

“Granny’s.” Belle swallows and licks her lips, the traces of her lipstick making her mouth feel sticky. “Her house not - not the inn. Ruby’s old room.”

He glances up to see her face, and then nods as he looks down to the floor before bending to pull up his clothes.

She hops down off the workbench and picks up her discarded bra, slipping her arms into it and fastening it behind her back. “Rumple,” she says, waiting until he looks at her before she continues. “This isn’t -”

“No,” he interrupts. The cool, calm mask slips into place too easily. “I know it’s not.”

“ _No_.” She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean.”

Rumplestiltskin sighs. “Then what. _What_ Belle?”

She looks him up and down, his shirt torn open and missing half its buttons, his trousers unbuttoned and wrinkled, and knows if she looked at herself she’d see something similar. They’re a mess, literally and figuratively.

She takes another step and reaches for him, catching his fingers with hers and pulling at them until he wraps his hand around hers. He feels warm and solid in this moment, and his eyes have that same unwavering look whenever he gazes at her too long. They betray everything.

“This isn’t forever,” she explains, and he frowns. “Us, being apart. It’s not.”

He scoffs. “Really?”

Belle pulls her hand away and turns from him, feeling a stab of pain in her forehead. She should have known better than to try to talk to him after what’s happened. She shuts her eyes against the sting of fresh tears.

Rumplestiltskin’s shoulders slump and he mentally kicks himself for at least the fourth time today. He takes a moment to button his trousers and then moves behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. He has to be brave too, but he’s not sure he knows how. Hiding behind power has always been easier. If he’s to be a father again, in the way he wants to be, he has to find a way through.

“Belle,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss her hair, just above her ear. “I’m sorry, love.”

She sniffs. “I know.”

She does, really. He’s always sorry and he always means it. But it’s not enough anymore.

“I’ll try,” he says after a long pause. “I will, but -”

She nods and shuts her eyes as she leans into him. He feels strong and sure, safe. Her throat feels tight. “I know.”

She has to try too. They can’t exist like this, opposed and at opposite ends, both wanting the same thing but too stubborn to be the one who gives. They have to compromise somehow, she has to find it in her to meet him in the middle. She did that once, and she doesn’t know what happened to that woman, the one who loved a beast unconditionally.

“I love you.”

His voice is soft, thick with emotion, and all she can do is nod again. She hopes he knows what that means, and when his hands squeeze her shoulders she’s sure that he does.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later, she’s in a strange bathroom listening to the patter of water against the old tub. She sits on the lid of the toiler, her arms wrapped around herself as she waits for the shower to be hot enough. Her dress is on the floor, as wrinkled as she expected and stretched from where he pulled it down to get at her bare skin.

Steam finally starts to rise and she pulls back the curtain just enough to step in. The water hits her back, splattering over her arms and shoulders, and tickling down her legs. She lifts her head to wet her hair, the force of the spray pushing it forward until a few strands are sticking to her neck and face. 

Belle rubs a hand over her stomach and down to the soft swell where her child is growing. There’s nothing there yet, not really, but it’s an unconscious act to touch there now. She can feel the changes already, the signs of new life, and the slightly bloated, heavy feeling.

Everything is heavy lately.

A sob wells up and this time she lets it out, only half muffling it with her hand as she bends forward and then sinks to her knees. After a few minutes her shoulders ache from shaking and her legs are going numb. She stands awkwardly, and turns around, tipping her face up into the rush of hot water and letting it wash away the traces of her tears. Things used to be simple. _They_ used to be simple. He loves her. She loves him. That was it. It might be like that again, she hopes. Her hand drifts down to her belly, palm pressing just under her navel. 

She thinks about Rumple, about his body inside hers, the way it always feels like she’s found something she was missing when they’re together. She thinks about the way she almost ripped off his shirt and the sound of the buttons scattering over the floor in her haste to be close to him. She thinks about the words that died on her tongue the minute she stepped into the shop and saw the pain in his eyes, and about their son, about what his fate might be now that they know. 

And she hopes again.


End file.
